Crossed Fishing Lines
by She-Ninja
Summary: Just a simple filler story while I try to finish up others. Depending on how well it is liked, I can take it further. K for now ; Wyl runs into a cute fisher girl who is well conditioned by society. Is their culture gap too wide?


_I took a break from my usual stories to write somethin a little lighter. Maybe. Idk. Luck Run Out is being evil to me, so sorry about that... but sometimes you just gotta take a break and try somethin else to inspire you. _

_Right?_

* * *

"Odds bobs!" Laenna cursed, and waded out into the shallow pools, scowling at her fishing line, "If I land a line in one more weed before lunch I swear by the Light I'll-"

"My apologies, miss,"

Freezing, the fishergirl turned to face the shadow that had fallen over her. His deep voice didn't fit his face, she first thought. His eyes were wary, but kind. His hair was lighter than Light, as her mother would say.

"Those Nobles," she'd mutter, shaking her head at a passing group of the better off, "They know how to breed a blonde. Lighter than the Light, they can get it. Pure as it too, so they say."

Laenna's jaw clenched. She knew it was about to slack at his chiseled jawline. Seeking to distract herself before she blushed like the schoolgirl she was, she averted her gaze from his face, remembering all of the sneers she had received from proper folk.

"I'm sorry, sir, I must've hooked my line on yours," she mumbled, though she knew well and good it was the other way around, "I'll cut my line and you'll be good as new."

"No need for you to waste a perfectly good catch," he reasoned, and pulled up her line with a plate-gauntlet armored hand. Her eyes traced unwillingly up his silver washed armor, glimmering and clearly meaning business.

Then his eyes met hers, and he was smiling. She looked down again before he could turn the smile nasty and caught sight of the fish he was holding.

The one she caught.

"You can have it if you want," she quickly offered, her heart dropping as she measured that it was her biggest catch of the week, "You pulled in the line."

He chuckled. Startled, she glanced up to see his eyes full of mirth. "Take it? Why, I would bet that this is the biggest fish the Valley of Honor has ever seen!"

"I can clean it for you, if you'd allow me-"

He quirked an eyebrow, "My dear," he said softly, "You know very well it was my line that tangled yours, and it was you who pulled up this mighty fish. It's rightfully yours."

'Sure,' she wanted to reply, 'but nobles always take it if it's any good. Anything that's any good.'

Instead she stared as he, in full plate, detangled their lines and brought her catch over to where she had her others tied. His hands were steady, practiced, though she'd never seen someone with a drop of status do a days hard work.

He motioned for her to join him, and she nearly tripped over her waterproof boots trying to act as if she weren't staring.

When she reached the edge of the pools, she paused in taking his offered hand to help her out. Mounted on gleaming feathered Hawkstriders were a good sized herd of female blood elves. Wearing bright cloths and sparkling jewels, they chimed their perfect laughter at her scale and gut covered jerkin, motioning to her mussed light _brown_ hair.

Her cheeks burned like a midsummer bonfire. She quickly turned away from the shoreline, picking off scales from her neck and chest in a poor attempt to clean her appearance.

Every day they came by. A glance over her shoulder told Laenna that they had slowed, which was unusual. She honestly didn't think they were very good priests and mages, if they spent all of their time riding around Ogrimmar like queens.

Her blush deepened when they took notice of the man on the shore. Suddenly interested, they steered their mounts closer.

The man was confused when the fish girl turned away, but it became clear why when he was hailed by a few petty women.

"You don't want to hang around _her_," the foremost one sneered. Her hair was white it was so blonde.

"She splatters fish entrails all over herself," another giggled. She primped her immaculate strawberry blonde locks and looked the man up and down. It was clear to Laenna that these women were far more interested in this newcomer than in teasing her. She sighed inwardly and brushed more scales from her jerkin.

Another boldly moved her mount closer to the disgusting fishy girl, appearing concerned, "Has she gotten any on you? Light knows she's probably clumsy enough."

"We know a place you may clean up," the strawberry one smiled.

"One that the… common folk, aren't allowed in."

"You're offer is… generous," he finally responded. Laenna tied her line off and hooked her fish, dragging them to the shore. "However, I-"

Laenna couldn't explain it. One minute she had a steady footing on solid ground, and she was halfway through hauling her weight out of the water. The next thing she knew, she was face down on top of her gutted fish. She instantly rose back to her feet, sopping wet and now not only dripping fish scales, but fresh guts and blood. Instinctively, she looked to where she had fallen from, but nothing was out of place. Confused, she forgot herself and looked to the women.

There was one standing precariously close to the edge, looking at her with distinct maliciousness.

Tears welled in her eyes without her accord. She barely glanced at the man, fearing what he would do. Grabbing up her fish and tackle, she waded further from the nobles and dragged herself out of the pools.

The female's leering laughter chased her all the way home, and only died away from her ears when she closed the door to her room and buried her face in her hands.

* * *

Despite all of her arguing, begging, and pleading, Laenna was sent back to the pools the next day. Terrified that 'the noble' would be there again, she took extra care to make sure that her shirt was clean and her brown hair was combed. Once again, she leaned forward and peered at her roots, as if she could magic them lighter. Her mother once told her that she had "Dirty blonde" hair. It was fairly light, though dirty enough to warrant ridicule.

Of course, her mother also thought it ridiculous that it was the 'new thing' to have blonde hair. "In my day," she huffed when the other girls in the courtyard rubbed dirt in Laenna's hair, "In my day, it was just family name. Light, Ray Sundragon had the blackest hair anyone'd ever laid eyes on!"

"But they say Arior has the purest white hair, and Rispah's is such a light red some call it a shade of blonde!" the young Laenna retorted.

Her mother harrumphed, "You _would_ go ahead and idolize the sisters that like to get all mucked up with their hunter beasts. What about Ausheilen then, hmm? Wasn't she also a blonde?"

Laenna shook her head at her mother's boldness even as she ran a comb through her hair again. Speaking of Ausheilen sometimes warranted her unexpected appearance.

The first few steps out of her door were tough, but they were nothing compared to inching her way through the Valley of Honor towards the fishing pools. It was still early enough that most of the higher born were still abed- if she was lucky, she could catch all she needed and be gone before anyone else showed up.

So she cast out her line, sat down on the edge of the dock (because today she was not falling into the water, no matter how hot it got), and watched Ogrimmar come to life. With the shadows gone, the children at the nearby orphanage came out to play among the sparse plants. The men of battle, each commanding forces in a different far off battlefield, trudged back up to the war rooms. The wolf handler brought out the younger dogs, letting them chase birds and the occasional good natured tauren.

Laenna leaned back on her hands, her toes skimming the water, and breathed the smell of the forges starting up. The tangy smoke made her nose tingle, and she rubbed it idly. When the scent pursued, she furrowed her brow and sat straight, rubbing the offending airway vigorously.

Hearing a not so unfamiliar chuckle, she jerked around and almost fell off of the dock.

The noble stood behind her, though she almost didn't recognize him. He was wearing cloths and a leather apron, and both were marked with soot and singe marks.

"I suppose I must smell rather similar to a smoke cloud," he said good naturedly, and smiled down at her.

"Yes sir- I mean no, sir! Not really. Not that bad. I just had something tickling my nose, sir."

He raised an eyebrow, but shook his head quickly. "May I join you?" he tried, and Laenna nearly jumped from her skin when he plopped down beside her without any formality, or standing, or bowing.

With her back as stiff as the wooden boards she sat on, she leaned slightly away from him, afraid he would turn nasty at any minute.

"Lovely day we're having, isn't it?"

The way he said it, so mild and pleased, she couldn't help but look at him.

"I suppose, sir. Probably going to heat up like an oven later."

He turned his face to her, looking her straight in the eyes, "You think so?"

Time sort of stopped.

His lips were curved into a half smile, as if he was trying to invite her in to his pleasant-ness. His eyes were as soft as ever, his face clear of age lines and…

Tan?

Laenna blinked.

What noble ever allowed themselves outdoors long enough to get tanned?

"I bet it will, now that you mention it," he continued on, and Laenna was left staring at him. He smiled out over the water, seemingly pleased to just be sitting there, on the molding docks, with the fish girl. "That's why I did all of my forging early this morning. Well, that and it is always fun to wake up Saru early."

They fell into silence again, as Laenna wracked her brain for anything she learned on conversational manners. Surely she should be saying something, maybe complimenting him? How _does _one hold a 'proper' conversation?

"My name is Wyl'es, by the way," he said rather suddenly. Laenna jumped three inches.

"W…Wyl'es," she repeated.

"Wyl'es Lightsear. You can call me Wyl though."

She blinked. Wasn't that a family of paladins? It sounded like it. She tried to remember the recent gossip she had overheard, trying to recall if she had heard his name.

After a moment, she was pulled from her thoughts as she realized he was looking at her, as if waiting for something. She stared blankly at him, lost.

"Erm," he looked down at his hand as he scratched at the wood, "What's your name?"

"Oh!" cheeks catching fire, she clasped her hands between her legs and ducked her head, "It's, ah, Laenna."

"Laenna," he repeated, looked out over the water again, and sighed shortly. "Laenna…?"

Now she fidgeted. With a lot of the blood elf families, you could tell where they stood at court by their surname. Laenna wished dreadfully that he hadn't asked for hers.

"What," he said, laughter lacing his voice, "Lynx got your tongue?"

"Uhm, no, it's not that…" she glanced at him, hoping something else had caught his attention. But his eyes were bright and intent on hers, make her blush further. "Oooh…"

"Come on," he said, his voice lowered nearly to a husky purr. But his eyes were still kind and honest, as though he didn't realize that…

Her mind was completely blank. She blinked, staring at his lips as he continued in the same husky tone, "You don't have to be afraid."

"Uhh…" she shook her head and tried to remember her name, then, "It's… Brightriver."

She tensed, waiting for him to break out and ridicule her.

"Laenna Brightriver," he said, and looked up at the clouds, "What a beautiful name."

"Not really," she muttered under her breath, and swore when she saw her rod bent almost in two.

She struggled with the line, already knowing that one of the vicious, too-tough-to-eat fish had gotten hooked somehow. It was a losing battle over the rod, and even with the big catch yesterday she didn't have enough money for another good rod like this.

Steady hands followed by steely arms trapped her as Wyl took her pole. With expertise beyond her own, he fought the fish to the dock, where, with a practiced motion, he de-hooked it without bringing it from the water.

Laenna was stunned, staring at her unharmed fishing rod back in her hands. Turning to Wyl, she stuttered, "Th-thank you! How'd you get so good at fishin and the like? You just… you unhooked…"

"I had some free time in Dalaran," he shrugged, "They have a sort of fishing contest," he winked at her playfully, "Turns out fishing is a respectable skill in Northrend."

"You…you been to Northrend?"

He nodded, sighing. "Yes. After enjoying life in Shattrath of course, they deemed that my comrades and I were to help in Northrend. Great big tundra of Scourge, really."

Laenna baited her hook again, thinking. All her family had ever wanted was to at least reach Outlands. That he had been there, lived in the city of refugees, and then moved on to fight the Scourge? She snuck a glance at him, remembering his armor. A war hero, she thought. He had to be.

"You've killed a lot of Scourge then, sir?"

Wyl looked down at her, but she was innocently casting her line and setting her rod. "In a way. I've seen many of them fall, if that is what you are asking. Almost everything they need done in Northrend is eradicating the Scourge, pushing them back until we can muster the forces to take on Arth- The Lich King properly."

He hoped she would follow up on her strangely forward comment, but she merely nodded and stared out at the water.

Sighing inwardly, because he _knew_, right when he saw her, she was timid, and he shouldn't expect her to want to get to know him very bad. Or at least, she would probably think she had no place there.

"Have you always lived in Ogrimmar?" he asked, changing topics. It seemed she hadn't, judging by her stone-set view of society, but one never knew.

"Me?" she asked, turning to him, "Light no. Mum and I moved here… recently."

"You live with your mother," he said kindly, "Is she a fisher too?"

Laenna shook her head, "No, she's a cook, as it's proper. You haven't eaten trout till you've had her hot buttered trout." Feeling she was saying too much, she snapped her mouth closed.

"Then I suppose I must try it sometime." Wyl stretched his arms above his head, grunting as random joints popped. "Does she have her own restaurant here?"

Biting her lip, the girl shrugged. "Sort of. We don't have enough for a place, real and proper. So she cooks for people for a bit of gold if they come by around dinner time. Haven't had trout in a while, not since that fisherman came through with some he'd snagged somewhere else. They aren't naturally around Ogrimmar." Again, she closed her mouth, catching herself rambling incessantly.

"I shall have to stop by, in that case. I just so happen to have several trout in my possession, though I lack the ability to cook it properly," he grinned at her widely, "Last time I tried, it tasted like charcoal and grease."

Without thought, she laughed, remembering the time she tried to use her mother's recipe. It was a disaster.

"Wyl'es!"

The pair turned at the sound of this new voice, Laenna's mouth snapping closed only to pop back open.

"Alckerith, what a surprise," the elf replied, rising to his feet. The female at his side took her time standing, keeping an eye on the Forsaken.

His grisly features terrified her. She bit the inside of her mouth as Wyl clasped his hand in a friendly manner, knowing that she was being silly. The Forsaken were one of the Blood Elves closest allies in the Horde, aiding the rebuilding race wherever they could.

Laenna still felt shivers run over her skin when he eyes drifted to the claws that marked his fingertips.

"It's good to see a friendly face here," Alckerith continued, smiling, "I've gotten enough stares for my liking already, and it's not even noon."

"Unfortunately I am not so surprised," Wyl replied, shaking his head. Sending a glance at his new friend, he saw her staring at the Forsaken's claws, and bit back a chuckle.

"Forgive my manners, Alckerith," the elf said, and allowed himself a smile as he gently took her arm, "This is Laenna Brightriver. Laenna, this is Alckerith."

Alckerith was watching her suspiciously, and blinked furiously when she abruptly asked, "Don't you have a last name?"

She turned bright red and half hid behind Wyl, who promptly began to laugh. Alckerith took this as a sign that she didn't have bad intentions, and smiled as well.

"I do," he drawled, "But Wyl cannot pronounce most Gutterspeak words, names or otherwise."

Her head popped back up, eyes bright. "Oh, Gutterspeak, isn't that your language?"

The question was so innocently curious Alckerith nearly doubled over laughing. Wyl did know how to catch them.

"Yes, unfortunately. It's a rather odd blend of Orcish and random guttural sounds."

She came out further from behind Wyl, forgetting her shyness in her questions. "Why don't your race simply have Orcish? I mean…" she blushed and looked away, "Don't you have to learn the language when… you know, you wake up?"

Wyl hadn't removed his hand from her arm, and she leaned into him slightly, much to his enjoyment.

"Well you see, some of my kind have no lower jaws..."

* * *

_I have a sort of strange fascination with blood elf society. I like experimenting with it I guess. You might not agree with this version, but hey, it's just for fun._

_I do have a possible plot for this one, so if it's well received I can take it deeper. Otherwise, mostly just staying 'in shape' in the writing field =P_


End file.
